


On a carpet of autumn leaves

by purple_bookcover



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Food Kink, Food Sex, Multi, Threesome, Threesome - F/F/M, What Have I Done, i dare you to find anything else under that tag, i don't deserve anything good in my life ever again, i'm never coming back from this, seriously just leave me here, this is the bottom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-12
Updated: 2019-11-12
Packaged: 2021-01-29 13:47:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21411163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/purple_bookcover/pseuds/purple_bookcover
Summary: Ignatz is painting the changing leaves when Ingrid and Leonie arrive to spar. Things go... so wrong. I'm so sorry. Don't read this.
Relationships: Ignatz Victor/Leonie Pinelli/Ingrid Galatea, Ingrid Brandl Galatea/Ignatz Victor, Ingrid Brandl Galatea/Leonie Pinelli, Leonie Pinelli/Ignatz Victor
Comments: 12
Kudos: 15
Collections: Ignatz Week 2019





	On a carpet of autumn leaves

**Author's Note:**

> Facts about the universe:
> 
> 1\. Ignatz has an A+ support with Ingrid  
2\. Ignatz has an A+ support with Leonie  
3\. I am a bad person  
4\. Peanut butter exists
> 
> This is for Ignatz Week, prompt "Autumn/Landscape," but honestly I should be banished to a remote island for this and never allowed to write again.

Leaves blew off the branches in a flurry of color as the wind exhaled between the trees. Shards of red and gold fluttered between gray trunks, spiraling down to add to the soft carpet dappling the forest floor. Ignatz pondered the shift in the landscape, his brush poised over his canvas. 

"Hey, whatcha up to?" 

Ignatz turned to find Leonie approaching with Ingrid only a few steps behind her. They both carried lances and looked dressed for battle. A nervous patter stole through Ignatz's chest. 

"Painting," he said. 

"Seems fun," Leonie said. She squinted at the canvas. He might have felt embarrassed, but in the five years since the world went insane, Ignatz had found he didn't care as much what people thought of his painting. All his family's careful plans to have him become a knight seemed trivial now that the entire world was fighting.

"Pretty," Leonie said. 

"Hm," Ingrid said. She regarded his painting impassively. 

"Wh-what are you two here for?" Ignatz asked, trying to shift focus away from his half-started landscape.

"Sparring," Ingrid said. 

"Gotta stay in shape," Leonie added. "Never know when the next battle could be." 

"Oh, yeah, that makes sense," Ignatz said. 

Thankfully, the women left the conversation there, moving off to start fighting. Ignatz went back to his painting, trying to capture the exact red of the falling leaves. But as he heard the women start sparring, he found himself distracted.

Ingrid moved with practiced precision, her long years of training obvious in her quick shift between forms and footwork. Leonie matched her strike for strike, however. Her style was less conventional, more loose and fluid and reactionary. It was a beautiful, dangerous dance, and Ignatz found himself wishing he could burn the image on his eyes to paint later. 

"Halt," Ingrid said and Leonie froze mid-strike. Ingrid looked directly at Ignatz, her gaze piercing, and said, "Why are you staring?"

Ignatz stumbled back a step, his paintbrush dangling from his fingers. "Uh, I, um, I'm sorry. I just..."

"You can practice with us if you like," Leonie said. 

"That's not why he was staring." Ingrid's voice was flat, cold, heavy. It dropped like a stone into the pit of Ignatz's stomach. 

"Oh?" Leonie said.

Ingrid strode toward him, Leonie following. They'd left their spears behind. Both women were barely taller than him, but seemed to loom in that moment.

"You like watching," Ingrid said.

Ignatz's eyes went wide. His throat constricted. "I-I-I have n-no idea w-w-what--"

"Don't bother denying it," Ingrid said. "I'm not stupid."

"I would never call you--"

"Shut up."

He clamped his mouth shut. Ingrid looked to Leonie instead. 

"I believe he needs to be taught some manners," Ingrid said.

Leonie's smirk filled her whole face. "Oh yeah, I totally agree." 

"Put down that brush."

The brush dropped from Ignatz's hand before he even realized he was obeying. 

"Good," Ingrid said. "That cape thing. Off." 

It fell to the ground. 

Ingrid rubbed a hand on her chin, regarding him. "Coat and shirt."

"W-w-what?" Ignatz stammered. 

"Was I unclear somehow?"

"But it's autumn." 

Ingrid shrugged. "Not my problem." 

Ignatz looked to Leonie, searching for some sort of salvation, but the red-head was laughing behind her hand.

And somehow, for some reason, Ignatz started working the buttons and laces of the garments. The two imposing women before him merely watched, utterly unimpressed. Their eyes were cold, their hands on their hips, their mouths frowning or laughing. 

It was exhilarating.

Even as he burned with embarrassment, Ignatz felt... good. Like, _really_ good. So good he was quivering with excitement and grateful for the bagginess of his pants. He hated himself for liking it so much... and that somehow only made it better.

Soon, he was shivering in the crisp air, hugging his bare chest. Ingrid nodded approvingly. 

"Leonie, go get our lunches," she said.

"Aye, aye," Leonie said, skipping away. 

Ingrid said nothing while they waited for Leonie to return. The anticipation made Ignatz's mouth water. 

Finally, Leonie appeared again carrying a small bundle. She untied it, revealing a modest lunch of fruit and sandwiches. Ingrid took one of the sandwiches, peeled the bread apart and slapped the peanut butter side of the sandwich onto Ignatz's bare chest. 

"What the--"

"This is your punishment," Ingrid said. She wiped the sandwich down his torso, leaving a trail of peanut butter before she tossed the bread aside. 

"So rude," Leonie said. "Staring. I can't believe it." Then she, too, slapped peanut butter onto his body, leaving a sticky trail with bits of bread clinging to it. "Wow, now you're a mess on top of being a creeper. I never would have taken you for such a slob, Iggy." 

Ignatz's face burned. He could hardly see through the fog on his glasses. And yet... even his baggy pants couldn't conceal everything anymore.

"Ew, gross, he loves it!" Leonie said. "What a perv."

"Disgusting," Ingrid said, her cool voice cutting through him so good. 

"You might as well take off the pants too," Leonie said. "Not like we can't tell what's going on under there."

And that's how Ignatz found himself stark naked in the forest outside the monastery with peanut butter smeared down his body.

Ingrid strode up to him, far too close for comfort, and swiped her finger through the peanut butter. "Get this shit off me," she said.

He opened his mouth and she put her finger inside. He sucked and licked until her finger popped back out spotless and clean. 

"Oh, me too!" Leonie said. She slapped her palm against his chest, getting peanut butter all over it.

It was a tougher operation, licking her whole hand clean, but Ignatz diligently worked his tongue until she told him to stop.

"Gross," Leonie said, wiping her hand on her pants. 

"What a hard worker," Ingrid said. "Think he deserves a reward?"

"I dunno," Leonie said. "He still looks gross." 

"Move your hands," Ingrid said.

Ignatz realized his hands had been covering his crotch the whole time. He hesitated. That was too far, even for him. Ingrid fixed him with a glare, tapping her foot as she waited. Ignatz pried his hands away from his shame, putting them over his face instead. 

Leonie laughed. "I think you're gonna break him, Ingrid."

"Hands down," Ingrid said. 

"Please," Ignatz whined behind his hands. 

"Down." 

His hands went to his sides. He stood at attention, in more ways than one, while the two women evaluated him. Why was he still so gods damned excited? His body was reacting even as his whole mind screamed for him to run and hide and pretend this whole humiliating experience had never happened. 

"I need you to be very clear now, Ignatz," Ingrid said. "Do you want us to continue? We will walk away right now if your answer is no. You have to decide."

He froze, filthy, embarrassed, cold, naked, withering under the combined gaze of the two war goddesses before him. He nodded.

"You have to say it," Ingrid said. 

"Y-yes," Ignatz said. "Yes, please."

Ingrid smiled, just a tug at the corner of her mouth. "Well then, we'll have to decide what to do with you."

Leonie leaned toward Ingrid, whispering in her ear. Ingrid's smirk grew. Then the women started to unbutton their tunics.

Ignatz struggled not to choke. The women loosened their shirts just enough to expose their breasts. Leonie retrieved the forgotten second halves of the sandwiches. She slapped one side on Ingrid, smearing peanut butter on her tits. Then Ingrid did likewise, creating a sloppy mess on Leonie's chest. 

"Well?" Leonie said. She was using her partially-buttoned shirt to push up her breasts. 

"Come here," Ingrid said.

Ignatz stumbled forward as though commanded by a spell. When he was near enough, the women closed in. Soon, all he could see was soft breast. It was right at his eye level, messy with peanut butter, pushed up into massive, creamy mounds. 

He didn't need any instruction. Ignatz lowered his head, starting to lick at the peanut butter. Ingrid and Leonie pushed closer, practically encasing him in their breasts. He didn't mind. If this was how he died, suffocated in their chests, he'd die happy. 

"Oh, it tickles," Leonie laughed. "Harder, Iggy. Use your tongue." 

He did as commanded. Their encouragement was nearly as overwhelming as their criticism. He worked feverishly, trying to get every last bit of peanut butter, trying to leave both sets of perfect breasts absolutely spotless. 

"Don't just focus on one. Pay attention." Ingrid's voice was deliciously cold, slicing through him like winter wind, cutting right down to the bone. He found his hand wandering down his body while his mouth still worked. 

Ingrid smacked the hand aside. "No touching," she said and he shivered head to toe. "Understand?"

"Yes, ma'am," he said, voice muffled by boob. But goddess, was it difficult. His whole body was quivering, aching. It seemed like a single breath could send him over the edge, but Ingrid wouldn't allow it. 

"Hm, not quite clean," Leonie chided in a sing song. "There's some down the middle."

She used his hair to direct him into her cleavage. He would have gasped if his mouth wasn't already busy obeying her wishes. Leonie kept her hand in his hair, tugging a little. 

"What's with this stupid bowl cut, anyway?" she said. 

"Five years and somehow he couldn't find a barber in all that time," Ingrid sneered. 

"I'm sorry," he said. Well, he tried to say. It ended up coming out more like "Ahm wawwy," what with his face shoved into Leonie's tits. 

"He's sorry, Ingrid."

"Is he?" 

Suddenly, there was a hand on his cock, an ice-cold, calloused hand. Ingrid's grip was confident, her strokes efficient, direct and highly effective. 

"Oh, he's not going to last very long like that," Leonie said.

"Then he better hurry up with his cleaning," Ingrid said. 

Ignatz worked double time, even as his legs started to shake. He moaned into Leonie's chest, clutching her shoulder for support as his knees tried to give out. His tongue searched for peanut butter but found only soft curves. 

"Better hurry up and do Ingrid before it's too late," Leonie said. 

She moved him by the shoulders and now he was grasping at Ingrid. It felt incredibly strange, both to touch her and to have her touch him. She seemed unphased by it, however, her hand as sure and precise as ever. 

He was close. He could feel his orgasm creeping up on him. Ignatz moved his hands to Ingrid's chest, pushing her breasts up so he could lick at the last few dirty spots. 

Horribly, Ingrid stopped stroking him. Fire burned through his body. His legs felt boneless and weak. Ingrid gripped his cock, but did not pump it any longer. 

She leaned close to his ear, her voice a horrible, wonderful, icy rasp, like nails dragging down his back. "Not until it's all clean."

Ignatz worked frantically, desperately, licking, sucking, moving her breasts with his hands to get every last bit. And finally, Ingrid relaxed her grip just enough to stroke him, releasing the shivering orgasm vibrating just beneath the surface for so, so long. He cried out against her chest, slouching into her. 

Ingrid supported him by the shoulders until he was a bit steadier on his feet, then helped him to sit on the ground. Ignatz remained there, blinking, struggling to breathe, trying to make sense of what in all the sweet, merciful realms of man had just happened to him. 

His clothes fell in a heap at his feet. 

"Nice job," Leonie said. 

"Not terrible," Ingrid said. But she smiled down at him, just faintly.

Leonie gave him a mocking salute. "See ya around, Iggy." 

And then they left, their peanut butter sandwiches scattered across the carpet of autumn leaves.

**Author's Note:**

> Listen, the [rarepair discord](https://discord.gg/SxUqUw) deserves AT LEAST half the blame for this. Don't @ me. Ignatz wants to get dominated by strong women. That's just a fact. I didn't make those A+ supports. That's all Intsys. 
> 
> Also, not for nothing, but writing Ingrid here was basically the same as writing Felix. I'm just saying. 
> 
> I'm on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/purplebookcover)
> 
> I respond to every comment. Thank you, friends!


End file.
